December 09, 2003
December 09, 2003 - 4:01 p.m.
Why oh why is there a mushroom called the puffball (scroll down)? It looks like Epcot Center. I thought I'd eaten every kind of shroom (including a few that aren't so legal), but these are new. And why do they immediately remind me of the Oz stories?*
Yesterday's battle with the bank continues, but frankly, after three hours on the phone with obscenely polite customer service people who make no fucking sense, writing about it is not appealing. Sometime tomorrow I'll also find out how much the house appraised for. The stress combo-pack makes me want to stuff my gut with crappy food and drink oblivion. Does Absolut count as oblivion?
Probably not. Instead there's a 12-pack of Tecate and Season 5 of Buffy waiting for me at Scratcher's.
I'm not the most feminine person in the world, but one of the things that brings me mucho pleasure is feeding people. (Yeah, shocking, right?) So every week I've been bringing stuff to Scratcher's house. Leftover New England boiled dinner. Lentil soup with bacon. This week it's Tortilla Soup with Chipotles and corn muffins. He doesn't seem to mind, and even if he's just tolerating me, I appreciate his good humor.
We have holiday parties the next two weekends, one with my friends and one with his brother and sister-in-law. I'm curious to watch him interact. The man is so bright, so funny - but he comes off as a gritty guy sometimes, which leads people to underestimate him. I love that, because that's how he gets in the best zingers.
Oh yeah. There was one other thing.
As much as I complain about my nutty-ass banana bread family, they have been strong with the support this week. Daddy offered money; Mom's left little messages and asked what she can do. Sure, my folks are fucktronic** sometimes, but they've made a big difference lately. Smooches.
*Yes, there's more than one Oz book. Lots and lots more, including a bunch written after L. Frank Baum died. I read them incessantly in grammar school. I think this is why the movie with Judy Garland does nothing for me; she's not a six year-old blond with a pageboy - and she should be. End rant.
**You know, fucktronic. Fucking electronic, as in, so programmed that they can't help it.
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